


Etienne's Reply

by MissDelight



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, Short One Shot, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:43:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2788763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDelight/pseuds/MissDelight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, you find Etienne at the Thalmor Embassy getting tortured, but what happened leading up to then?<br/>A quick, short scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etienne's Reply

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Calmerion Anon (angrymermaids)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrymermaids/gifts).



> Inspired by Calmerion Anon's absolutely fantastic [ "Protector"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2073000).  
> Their fics always have a special place in my heart, and I wanted to share a tidbit I dreamed up in appreciation.  
> Takes place before Calmerion arrives to rescue Etienne.  
> The scene: Justicar Rulinddil is questioning Etienne regarding Esbern.  
> <3  
> (Fanfic Inception: a fanfiction of a fanfiction!)

_Skyrim, Tirdas, 1:35 PM, 27 th of Sun's Dawn, 4E 202_

Etienne hung limply in his shackles, too exhausted to stand.

“And his name _is_...?” Rulindil repeated sharply from outside Etienne's cell.

His tone was despicably businesslike.

As though they were sitting in a counting house somewhere or a Jarl's court - instead of the darkest, coldest corner of the the Thalmor embassy's basement and secret prison.

Half of the scene matched the elf's imperious, accountant-like tone, the thief mused to himself. The Justicar was seated at an impeccably tidy desk, scrawling what sounded like precise notes.

The guard within the cell strode toward him, his pristine gold armor reflecting the lights of the candelabra by the Justicar's desk beyond the bars.

Etienne flinched at the sound of his heavy footsteps.

He wasn't ready to go another round yet.

Or ever again for that matter.

“No, please,” Etienne gasped. “I remember now.”

The resplendent gold figure paused, and Etienne could hear the disconcerting sound of his blood dripping from the mace gripped in the elf's hand. A shiver ran across the Breton thief's bare chest and, using the remainder of his strength, he slowly raised his head. Squinting between the blonde hair hanging over his eyes, matted with sweat and blood, he stared at Rulindil.

“His name...” he trailed off breathlessly. “It's...”

The soldier before him raised his mace, ready to punish him for his slow reply, but Rulindil held up a hand to forestall him.

“Get on with it, Mister Rarnis.”

Etienne savored the moment.

“Talos.”

He paused, before adding.

“Yes, I think his name was Talos.”


End file.
